


My Compliments to the Chef

by queenhomeslice



Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breakfast, Crush at First Sight, Cunnilingus, Curvy Reader, Developing Relationship, Diners, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fire, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Flustered Ignis Scientia, Irish Coffee, Love Confessions, Lust at First Sight, Men Crying, Morning After, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Restaurants, Sleeping Together, Soft Gladiolus Amicitia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, chef!reader, fat reader, flustered reader, forget slow burn this is a quick sear, plus size reader, saying i love you for the first time, the reader cooks ignis breakfast and he doesn't know what to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Ignis Scientia is too busy to date, and certainly too busy to love. And even if he had the time, he knows his type...or at least, he thought he knew. A chance encounter with the chef of a five-star restaurant just might turn everything about the royal adviser’s world upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even fucking know, man. Ignis deserves a fat girl, that's all I have to say for myself.  
______
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Femme Étoilée means Starlit Woman

“Iggy, what are you still doing here?” Gladio pokes his head into the adviser’s top-floor Citadel office, chest still heaving from his training session. “It’s fuckin’ late, man.” 

Ignis sighs and sips his can of Ebony that has long gone lukewarm. He looks up from the military report that he’s been pouring over for hours. He’s trying to read around the redacted parts, trying to rewrite it into something that Noctis can understand and make a decision on. Regis has made Noct the de-facto commander of a squad of Glaives that are on recon beyond the Wall, and has deferred every relevant piece of intelligence to Ignis, so that he can relay it to Noctis. Except that this is proving difficult even for Ignis to wrap his head around. He’s sure that he’s been staring at the same page for an hour, and he’s written maybe three sentences in the notebook that’s next to the official document. 

“Time is of little importance, Gladio. This must be done. The future of this military operation rests entirely on Noct’s shoulders. And it’s important that I help him decipher this bureaucratic nonsense so that he might make a sound decision.” Ignis takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, hard. He registers the footsteps across the carpet, rounding his desk until they still behind his chair—and then he audibly gasps as hands clamp down on his shoulders and begin to move. “_Six, _Gladio...” Ignis groans. 

The Shield only chuckles deeply. “You need a vacation, Ignis. Or at least one good night off. When’s the last time you had any fun? Or gone on a date?” 

Ignis scoffs and relaxes more into Gladio’s touch in spite of himself. “I don’t have time for such frivolities. I’m trying to help mold our young charge into someone capable of assuming the throne. Surely you must know that.” 

“Sure I do. You think I don’t take my job seriously? It still doesn’t stop me from knowing how to have fun once in a while. C’mon. Every time Nyx and I invite you out for a beer, you say no.” 

“I prefer wine,” moans Ignis as Gladio digs in on a particular knot on the back of his neck. 

“You _know _what I mean, smart ass. Don’t get cheeky with me.” 

“I cannot afford to lose sense of my faculties. My position is different from yours, I’m afraid. I must represent the Crown at all times.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes—and even though he can’t see it, Ignis can feel the action of the other man, even as he continues his ministrations on his aching muscles. “Yeah, I call bullshit. If you were finished with that dumb military report right now, what would you do? Where would you go?” 

As much as he hates it, there’s something about Gladiolus Amicitia that puts him at ease. They’ve known each other a long time—Ignis knows that Gladio can see through his defenses, even when they’re on lockdown. “Well--I did read about that new restaurant that opened up last month. It’s not too far from here—_Femme Étoilée, _if I’m not mistaken, is the name. I suppose I’d like to go, at some point.” Ignis reaches his hand to his shoulder and stills Gladio, putting his glasses back on. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders back and brings his shoulder blades together. He blinks tired emerald eyes up at Gladio. “My thanks. That was lovely.” 

Gladio chuckles. “Anytime, Iggy.” He gives the adviser one last squeeze. “But promise me you’ll do at least one thing for yourself soon, yeah?” 

Ignis shrugs. “Doubtful, but if the opportunity presents itself...then perhaps.” 

Gladio shoots a thumbs-up as he shuffles out of the office, shaking his head. 

________ 

Getting Ignis into this restaurant was like pulling teeth on a wild sabertusk, and honestly, he probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Noct’s actual _order _of a night off. He’d tried to convince Ignis to take the whole day, but if anyone could buck against what little princely authority Noctis had, it was Ignis. He’d finally withered the military report into bite-sized, simple chunks, presenting it to Noct—and surprisingly, the prince had taken to the strategic operation like a duck to water. Ignis had swelled with pride at the meeting with Captain Drautos and the others, standing in the corner and watching Noctis make his case for calling back the squad in question and redeploying them further east. Regis had nodded with hearty approval at Ignis after the meeting was done, and it was all he could do not to throw his arms around Noctis once they were alone in Noct’s apartment later that evening. 

And so, since such a large, stressful matter had been taken care of, Noctis had ordered Ignis to at least take a night off—Friday night, he argued, so that Prompto could come over and the two could eat junk food and play video games all night. In the end, Ignis knew that Noctis needed a reprieve just as much as he did, so he finally caved. And that’s how Ignis found himself at the _Femme __Étoilée _at six o’clock in the evening, a single glass of Chardonnay on the table, along with his appetizer of _foie __gras _and caviar. The restaurant was simple in its interior design, unlike the slew of other “fine dining” establishments that Ignis had frequented in his adolescence. Every table was full, but the atmospheric lighting and the spacious interior made it seem like hardly anyone was there at all, and Ignis wasn’t overwhelmed by the chatter of the other patrons. A violin quartet was playing quietly in the corner, a nice accompaniment to the rain that was softly falling over the Crown City. Ignis sipped his wine and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Perhaps a night to himself wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

The entrée came out in—in his opinion, anyway—perfect time: not too soon after his small plates, but not too long after so as to leave him starving and angry. He’d heard good reviews about the lamb chops, so he was quite giddy to give it a try. Biting down into the tender meat topped with a mint reduction, and a generous portion of whipped potatoes on the side, Ignis’ eyes widen as he chews and swallows, sipping his wine to wash it down. He looks up at the server—he'd heard it was customary of them to wait by the table until after the first bite, to ensure perfection. 

“Is it to your liking, sir?” the petite blonde—Nova, according to her name tag—asks, smiling. 

“My word,” replies Ignis, stunned. “This is possibly the most tender cut of lamb I’ve ever tasted. My sincerest compliments to the chef.” 

Nova nods. “I’ll pass the message along. Unless, of course, you’d like to tell Chef personally?” 

Ignis muses a moment. “Yes,” he breathes with finality. “If Chef can spare the time.” 

Nova nods. “Enjoy your meal, sir. I’ll tell Chef that a patron is waiting.” 

Ignis smiles in reply, then gets down to really eating the meat and potatoes in front of him. He prides himself on cooking, on trying to see how many diced carrots he can sneak into a meal without Noct noticing, but this—the adviser has eaten at a fair share of restaurants, had his share of catered cuisine at Citadel events—this, Ignis thinks, is possibly one of the best things he’s ever eaten in his twenty-one years of life. 

He’s just finishing his last bite when he sees his server, Nova, coming into view with a new glass of wine and the water pitcher, followed by a short, plump woman dressed in what probably used to be an all-white uniform—but she more or less looks like she’s wearing remnants of every dish on the menu. Nova approaches the table first, sets down the fresh wine glass, and refills his water; and then she steps to the side. 

For a second, Ignis can’t breathe properly. The first thing he notices about her are her lips—plump and pink, even though he can plainly see that she’s not wearing makeup. Her hair is up in a high bun, a hair net around her ________-colored hair. She’s still wearing plastic food-prep gloves, and she steps to the table, ______ eyes bright and sparkling, cheeks flushed pink with—embarrassment? Ignis doesn’t know. She’s even shorter than Noct, probably no more than ____ feet ____ inches tall, and she’s round, but curvy—and then she speaks. 

“Hi! I’m the chef, __________. Nova said you wanted to speak with me.” Her voice is bright, and her eyes wide and shining, eager to hear the praise. 

“Um,” says Ignis. _Um_. Gods. He’s never said _um _in his life. He coughs, quickly composes himself. “Yes, the lamb. It’s simply divine.” 

“Oh, thank you! It’s one of my favorites to cook. I kill them myself, you know—and it’s really hard sometimes, because they’re so _cute _—but I believe in practicing what you preach. In fact, I butcher all the animals on the menu, and all the veggies come from a garden that all of my cooks and sous chefs' plant and harvest together. I like to say that each dish is carefully crafted with love.” 

_ Love _. Ignis doesn’t know if that’s what he’s feeling right now, but another word comes to mind—crush. Somehow, some way, he’s got an instant crush on this bubbly, nondescript woman, who doesn’t look a day over twenty, but he knows that’s impossible. He looks up at Nova, who actually has the audacity to smirk at him. 

“Chef, I have another table to check on,” she says as she turns on her heel, tray and water pitcher expertly balanced. 

“Okay, good job!” __________ calls out after her, beaming. “Nova’s so awesome. One of the best servers here.” 

“Indubitably,” murmurs Ignis. He feels his cheeks get hot the longer he watches this woman’s face. 

“So! Tell me, is this your first time here? What do you think? Be sure to leave me a good review on Yelp, haha.” 

_ A good review _. As if Ignis could give this restaurant any fewer than a hundred stars. He’s got half a mind to phone up the Michelin Guide right now. “Chef __________,” Ignis starts. “I’m something of a food connoisseur myself—I spend hours preparing and perfecting meals for the Crown Prince. Your food has truly blown me away. I stand—sit, rather—in awe of your talent.” 

“Oh, gosh!” ___________ giggles a little, feels her face grow hotter under the compliments of the gorgeous man in front of her. “That’s really sweet of you to say. But wait, you said...the prince...” Her face contorts in realization. “Oh, Astrals! You’re telling me that _the _Ignis Scientia is sitting in _my _restaurant?” 

Ignis watches her beautiful eyes dilate in awe. “The very same. I’m flattered that you’ve even heard of me.” 

“Well, uh,” she looks away, rubs at the back of her neck. “You’re...some of the other chefs...we all kinda know each other, right. And you’re known...as just, like, a super critic. Hard to please, y’know.” Her head snaps up and she shoots Ignis a grin that pierces his heart, and he jumps as though he’s been shot. “But obviously I’ve done something right, if you’re that satisfied with your meal!” 

Ignis actually snorts. “I’m infamous for being picky, am I? Well.” He dabs his mouth with his napkin. “It isn’t my fault that those bloody idiots don’t know how to cook.” 

____________ chuckles a little. “Well, I gotta get going, Mr. Scientia. But thanks so much for the compliments. I hope you’ll come back and try something else.” 

And Ignis—whether out of desperation or loneliness or longing—reaches out and grabs her plush wrist in his long, deft fingers, and holds on for dear life. 

___________ turns, confused. “Mr. Scientia...are you okay?” 

Astrals help him, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s never felt like this before. He only knows that he wants to see her again. “I--forgive me for being so forward, but what...oh, bloody hell. What time do you usually leave?” 

“Huh?” The gears in her brain grind to a halt. She’s aware of a few other patrons staring at the odd physical contact. Her wrist is hot where he’s touching her. She’s staring into his gorgeous green eyes, noticing the faint beauty marks on his right cheek, analyzing the ways in which his jawline is sharper than her best knives. “What time do I leave...uh, well, I usually finish cleaning up the kitchen around midnight...” 

“Can I pick you up?” Ignis finds himself saying. “I know a twenty-four hour diner a few blocks from here. Please. Let me take you out.” 

“Are you...” She laughs incredulously. “Are you asking me out on a _date_?” 

“I...well, yes.” Ignis feels his heart slamming against his ribcage. What will he do if she refuses? 

“Oh, wow. Holy shit. Uh. Um...sure, I guess? It’s not too late for you?” 

“I cannot...you must let me see you again.” 

“You’re not...” she gradually wrenches her wrist away, leaving Ignis to painfully retract his hand. “You’re not joking, yankin’ my chain?” 

Ignis frowns. “Why would I jest?” 

The young chef shrugs. “I dunno, man. You look...how you look, y’know. And I’m...me? Not exactly a supermodel. I don’t get a lot of attention.” 

Ignis sucks in a sharp breath. “Fools, the lot of them. I...I apologize if I’m being too frank...” 

“I thought you were Ignis, not Frank,” ___________ says with a deadpan expression. 

Ignis blinks in silence for a moment and then he bursts out laughing, __________ following suit, at the stupid joke; and the adviser thinks that now he understands what instant attraction is like. How wonderful—but how awful, at the same time. He’s suddenly consumed with the overwhelming need to know everything about her. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that was dumb, and we’re trying to have a serious moment—defense mechanism, I guess. I’m a little nervous.” She fiddles with her hands, looks down, then back up at Ignis’ intense gaze. “You’re serious. You want to pick me up at midnight and go eat at an all-night diner.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I mean...sure? Yeah, then, Mr. Scientia. It’s a date.” 

“Please, call me Ignis.” 

“After you buy me dinner first.” ______________ shoots finger guns at him as she backs away from the table and pivots on her heel, retreating back to her kitchen. 

Ignis watches her leave, then runs his hands through his hair as he sighs deeply and pulls out his phone. He opens up the thread between himself and Gladio and simply types one word: _Help_. 

Kenny Crow’s isn’t crowded, and Ignis is thankful. It means that his attention will be fully focused on the young woman across from him. When Ignis had picked her up, she was in an old college sweatshirt and leggings and sneakers. Her hair was loose, then, falling just below her shoulders in soft waves. She’d apologized for being so dressed-down, but Ignis was still looking at her like she’d hung the moon. He had fitfully napped in between leaving the restaurant and returning, so he’s still buttoned up into his purple coeurl-print shirt and slacks. The first few buttons are open, exposing his collarbones and his skull pendant—and he doesn’t miss the way that __________ keeps sneaking looks at his bare skin. It fills him with a strange primal urge that he hasn’t felt since he was a young adolescent. 

There’s a large basket of fries in the middle of the table, and Ignis almost feels sacrilegious for eating the greasy food after his exquisite and expensive meal earlier in the evening; but __________ doesn’t seem to mind. She sips her lemon water thoughtfully as she peruses the menu. 

“I haven’t been here in a while,” she says quietly as she yawns. “I don’t get out much. The restaurant is all I know, really.” 

“I understand,” says Ignis quietly. “This is...gods, I don’t even know when’s the last time I’ve been on a date.” 

She lowers her menu and arches an eyebrow. “Really? A beautiful man like you? You’re joking.” 

Ignis snorts. “Physical attributes aside, I simply haven’t the time. Noctis keeps me quite occupied.” 

“That’s rough man, I’m sorry. But hey. I’m glad you made time for me. Even if, uh. Even if I still don’t understand it.” 

Ignis lowers his own menu and folds his hands on the table and frowns. “How can I make you understand?” 

___________ chuckles nervously, and is about to reply when the server approaches the table. 

“My stars, you’re Chef ___________, aren’t you? I’m sorry—I've just recognized you. Saw your picture in the _Times _last month when you cut the ribbon on that new fancy joint of yours,” the server says in awe, faint blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Ah, yeah! That’s me. Come eat some time, I’d love to cook for you.” 

The server laughs. “Appreciate it, miss, but it’s a little out of my price range.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. What’s your name?” __________ squints at his nametag. “Questus? Questus from Kenny Crow’s. Call my hostess whenever you’re free for dinner and we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

“Oh--you don’t have to—I couldn’t possibly...” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Those who can afford to eat my food do so willingly—and for those who can’t, well. I cook for them too. A good meal shouldn’t be limited by how much you have in your wallet. I insist.” She fumbles in her purse and drags out a business card. “This number that’s on this card is different than the general restaurant number. Call it and be sure to tell them that I’ve sent you.” 

The server nervously takes the card and pockets it, coughing and scrambling to open his ticket book. “I...I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” 

___________ waves her hand. “No sweat, really. I enjoy making food. Speaking of,” she laughs. “I’ll have the double burger, wrapped in lettuce. Onion, ketchup. No cheese.” 

“I’ll have the same,” says Ignis, handing his menu to Questus. “One check, by the way.” 

Questus collects the menus and nods his head. “Yes sir.” He turns to _________. “Thank you again. Uh, you think...that my wife and kids could come too...?” 

“Oh, totally! Of course! I would love to cook for your family. Drop by the _Femme _anytime.” She waves her hand as he bows hastily and retreats to hand in their order. 

Ignis feels downright captivated. “Do you always extend free invitations to the restaurant that costs 3000 yen a plate?” 

__________ shrugs. “We turn a huge profit, Ignis, and the fact that myself and our other cooks farm and butcher damn near every ingredient helps a lot, too. I can afford to pay all my employees a living wage. Tips are a plus for our servers, not something they have to collect in order to live. Why do you think that, since we’ve opened, several line cooks have jumped ship from other restaurants to come work for me instead?” She smiles happily. “I love my job. I love treating other people well. I love cooking. I think everyone deserves to eat.” 

Ignis shakes his head and sits back. “Remarkable.” He stretches, noticing the blush that creeps across her face as he flexes. “Going back to our earlier conversation.” 

“Oh.” She looks down, then back up. “Why did you do this, anyway? I mean...shit, Ignis. I don’t know what to say or think.” 

“I am consumed with the desire to know everything about you,” Ignis says simply, even though his throat feels tight. 

“But I mean, why? Handsome guy like you...with a lump like me, I mean...total mismatch, dude.” ___________ chuckles nervously. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” Ignis says, voice firm. 

“I think you need a stronger glasses prescription,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “Girls like me just don’t get _asked out_, y’know. Like no one looks at me and is like, ‘Damn, I want to get in _her _pants.’” 

Ignis chokes on his water in spite of himself. “Pardon,” he says, flustered at her bluntness. 

___________ laughs. “Sorry. It’s true though.” 

Ignis opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure of what to say. He watches her face as she looks down at her phone, fiddles with an app or two, then looks up again. “Sorry! Just got a few notifications, my friends asking me if I’m okay.” 

Ignis nods, not offended. “About...what you said,” he says carefully. 

“What, about being unfuckable? I mean I guess it’s not completely true, it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything, but it’s few and far between. Mostly just casual hookups that never really go anywhere.” 

“Idiots,” he seethes. “It angers me that you haven’t been properly appreciated.” 

_________ doesn’t miss the tone of his voice. She smirks. “_Appreciated, _huh? You buying me a burger ‘cause you want to _appreciate _me?” 

It’s Ignis’ turn to blush. “Well, I... obviously that’s not the _only _thing I want.” He smirks. “But, if you’re willing, then I’m sure some proper _appreciation _can be arranged.” 

“Oh...holy shit,” __________ giggles and feels her face turn hot. She glances away, then back to Ignis, who’s still smirking. “Gods, you’re so hot. I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“I thought I knew who I liked,” Ignis confesses. “But you...you’re everything I didn’t expect...and everything I think I need.” 

__________ gulps. How can someone be _so _charming and perfect at the same time? If this is a dream, she doesn’t want to wake up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, things have been hard lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time. I won't object to a coffee, if you catch my drift. Same username.
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft woman + muscled man = perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the porn with feelings, ya thirsty bitches.

It’s nearly two am before they stumble into Ignis’ high-rise apartment, and ___________ barely has time to shut the door behind her before Ignis crushes his lips against hers, drawing a sinful whine from her mouth. She fumbles, doesn’t know where to put her hands at first; but ultimately settles them on Ignis’ slender hips, gripping hard. He cups her jaw as he forces her mouth open, swipes his tongue inside as he holds her still. __________ is panting hard, trying to kiss Ignis back with equal gusto. He’s got her trapped against the door, and she can feel his hard muscles pressed up against her plush body, can feel every dip and curve, even through his shirt. She pulls away, finally, tilts her head to the side to breathe, and Ignis dives back in, sucking and kissing along her neck, nipping at her hot, soft skin. 

“Fuck, Ignis...” she pants. Has she ever been worshipped like this? There’s a waterfall between her thick thighs, and they’re not even _naked _yet. It’s so late—early, whatever—but fatigue has given way to the promise of what Ignis wants to do to her. He’d been so calm at dinner, in the car as he drove home, but now—in the privacy of his crisp, clean apartment, the dam has broken, and Ignis wants nothing more than to take everything that she’s willing to give. 

He pulls away, gazes into her eyes. His full, perfect lips are kiss-swollen, eyes nearly blacked out with lust, his chest is heaving, spiked up hair beginning to fall side swept across his forehead. “Bedroom, kitten?” 

_ “Goddamn, _as if I’m going to tell you no, now,” ___________ laughs as Ignis pulls away. He takes her hand—warm and small and chubby, the opposite of his, but their fingers curl around each other perfectly. He pulls her into the bedroom and moves to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, digs condoms out of the drawer. He turns, and ___________ feels as though she’s prey that’s being stalked. 

Ignis glides over to her, and backs her up until her legs hit the bed, and she sinks down, instinctively scrambling to scoot up further as Ignis slots their bodies together and covers her soft body with his. He kisses her gently, now—not as rough as in the hallway, but still as passionate. He pulls away slightly to gaze into her half-lidded eyes again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Ignis murmurs. “And quite the accomplished kisser. I do believe that you’ve ruined me.” 

“Speak for yourself,” __________ gasps as one of Ignis’ hands rubs down the top of her thigh and pries it away from the other, fingers dancing down and to the inside, finally moving to palm over her heated core. 

“Astrals,” Ignis breathes, lips pressed to that sensitive junction of neck and shoulder. “How hot you are for me.” 

“Ah...Ignis, please,” ___________ begs. 

“Please what, love?” he asks coyly as he snakes his other hand up her shirt and rubs feather-light circles across her wide expanse of stomach. 

“Please...make love to me,” she groans, as the hand between her legs grinds down and squeezes. She thinks that she could probably come just like this, with Ignis kissing her neck, one hand on her pussy and the other kneading her soft stomach. 

“With pleasure,” Ignis purrs, as he lifts up and climbs from the bed. He removes his glasses, placing them with care on the bedside table. He begins to unbutton his shirt, folding it and draping it on a nearby chair. He removes his socks and shoes slowly—he knows he’s putting on a show, and the thought has him reeling. Ignis can’t even remember the last time he got laid, and he can only hope that he lasts as long as he wants to. He unbuckles his belt, sliding out of his pants and his boxer-briefs in one fluid motion, folding each article of clothing on the chair alongside his shirt. When he turns back to the bed, it’s all he can do to keep standing on both legs. 

She’s a vision in the low lamplight of his bedroom, clothes pooled on the floor beside the bed. She’s lying sideways in all of her plush, nude glory, face flushed red. Ignis doesn’t move for several seconds as he takes in her heavy breasts; the light stretch marks snaking up her stomach, her thick thighs; the way her loose, wavy hair frames her cute, round face. 

“My word,” Ignis breathes as he approaches the bed. “You’re breathtaking.” 

“And you look like a fucking marble statue, dude, don’t even,” __________ laughs as she drinks in Ignis’ naked form—his broad chest, his dark nipples, the way his hair has fallen out of its spiked-up style; the happy trail of dirty-blonde hair that runs from beneath his belly button down to his groin; his long, thick cock, hard and heavy between his legs, slightly curved; his muscular thighs, and his chiseled abs, and his strong arms that look like he could bench press her full weight and then some. 

Ignis climbs on the bed and pushes her gently to her back, then lies flush against her, holding himself up on one elbow as his other hand comes to cup her large breast and knead it softly, pausing to pinch and pull at her nipple, bringing it to full hardness. He ducks his head down to wrap his lips around it and suck, alternating teeth and tongue, until he feels her hand grip the back of his hair. 

“Shit, Ignis, please, baby,” ____________ whines as he continues his ministrations on her body. 

“Your skin is so soft,” Ignis praises as he moves to the other breast and repeats his actions. “You’re absolutely adorable. And the sounds you make...” he trails off as he bites down on a nipple, drawing another moan of pleasure from her. “Delicious.” 

____________ is damn near crying—has she ever had a lover like this, someone to praise her at every turn, to worship her, to call her pet names...to not be embarrassed to be with her in public? She’s overwhelmed with him, overwhelmed with the fact that someone wants her _this much. _They'd talked at her restaurant for what, five minutes? It’s all too surreal for words, so she just focuses on feeling Ignis’ lips on her, his cock pushing gently against her core as he cants his hips gently, teeth letting go of her breast in order to nip and lick and suck lower on her body. 

“Fuck--fuck, Ignis, gods...please...” She feels hot, too hot. All she can think of is taking this gorgeous man inside of her and milking him for all he’s worth. 

“Patience, kitten.” Ignis slides down further and hovers just above her wet sex, parting her folds gently and flicking his tongue inside of her. 

The moan that rips from ____________’s throat is her loudest yet, and damn the neighbors, she thinks, because _none _of her past lovers have ever gone down on her so willingly. She’s so used to begging, so used to just being fucked—rather poorly, she’d confess—and then being left once the sunlight started to show through the curtains. 

But Ignis is burying his face in her cunt like a man starved, slurping down her essence in needy licks, lifting her up with his strong hands so that he can stick his tongue in at a further angle. She’s got one hand gripped in his soft hair, and the other is white-knuckled and twisted in the comforter. One of her legs is draped over his broad shoulder blades, and Ignis is holding the other one up as he claims her. ___________ is writhing beneath him, arching her back, trying to draw him closer, urging him to go faster. The minutes tick by, and it’s not long until she comes. 

“Oh, Ignis, I’m...fuck!” She’s coming with a strangled shout, and Ignis pulls his face away and slides two fingers inside of her as she bucks, milking her through her orgasm, giving her something to grind against. 

Sometime later she comes down, body finally stilled from its convulsions. Ignis is sitting up on his knees, watching her come to her senses. She relaxes into the bed, drops her legs flat, and gazes at him through half-lidded eyes. 

“Fuck, dude, I...shit.” She laughs. “I’ve never been eaten out like that. And I’ve certainly never come from it.” 

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’ll have to make a habit of it, then. You taste divine.” 

____________ doesn’t ask about the implications of Ignis’ words. Instead she licks her lips as she looks at his full, leaking erection and says, “Can you get inside of me now? Please. I want you so badly...” 

Ignis inhales sharply. “Your begging...you have no idea what it’s doing to me, ___________.” 

She backs up a little until she’s propped up more on the decorative shams on Ignis’ bed. “C’mon, then. Show me what I’m doing to you.” 

Ignis flushes at her words and moves lightning quick to pull out a foil packet and tear it open, rolling it onto his length. He shudders at the contact, giving himself a few strokes as he crawls towards her. He leans down to kiss her again; _____________ has always thought it was hot to taste herself on her partner’s mouth, but on Ignis, it’s like her scent _belongs _on his tongue, between his teeth, dripping down his chin. She sucks him in greedily, licking around his mouth, his chin, where’s slicked with her essence. Ignis moans and moves to gently nibble on her earlobe. 

“Are you ready for me, kitten?” He whispers hungrily. 

“Please...please, baby. Let me feel you.” 

Ignis sits up and grabs her legs, pulling her towards himself and positioning her how he needs. He brings her ankles to rest on his strong shoulders, then grips his hard length and teases her entrance, guiding the first few inches in with care. 

“Oh, _gods_,” Ignis breathes. “You’re so wet for me, such a good girl.” 

If _____________ didn’t have a praise kink before, she certainly does now, she thinks, because all she can do is bite her lip and moan at his words. Ignis rocks his hips forward a few more times, then thrusts into her with purpose, bottoming out inside of her. 

“Gods, _fuck!” _ she whines. He’s _so _big and it’s been so long—____________ feels full and split open all at once. She moves around him, flexes her inner muscles around the welcome intrusion. 

“Oh, love, that’s it. Feel me,” Ignis purrs as he relishes the feel of her tight heat around him. He gazes down at her, watches her face contort in pleasure, watches her hips flex as she grinds around his length. Her hair is splayed out on his pillows, her hands gripping the sheets at her sides. He leans down to drag his nails down her neck, between her full breasts, down her soft stomach. His face is inches above hers—she's watching him through half-open eyes, mouth formed into a permanent _o_. 

“Please, Ignis...” 

“Please, what, kitten?” Ignis teases as he grinds his hips in small circles. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you! Please, Ignis, give yourself to me. I need your cock...” _____________ is embarrassed as all hell at having to beg, but she quickly gets past the point of caring how desperate she sounds. 

And that’s all the push that Ignis needs. He braces himself, hands on either side of her head, and begins to thrust with purpose. He groans low and hot as he pumps in and out of her. “Darling, you feel so damn good!” Ignis cries. 

_____________ has lost all rational capacity for coherent thought—it's all she can do to coax him on by screaming half-bastardizations of his name mingled with curses and “_fuck me_s.” “Take this pussy, baby, it’s yours...claim it...” 

Ignis’ mind is swimming. He’s never lost himself so much in a woman before, and it’s overwhelming. He feels the familiar coil of orgasm much sooner than he’d like, and he manages to hold off until he feels her legs shake and another cry rip from her throat, telling him that she’d come again. Only then does he release inside of her, pushing deeper and deeper as he pulses, filling the condom, whining her name like it’s the only word he knows. Gods, it’s been so long, Ignis thinks—and then he realizes that he can’t imagine ever fucking anyone else. 

____________ 

Ignis knew it was late in the morning before he even opened his eyes. A mixture of bacon and coffee scents are hanging in the air, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he opens his eyes and blinks in the soft sunlight that’s streaming through his curtains. He’s only slightly annoyed that he can’t see ___________’s morning after face in the bed next to him, but he hopes beyond hope that this isn’t just a one-night stand. He pulls himself out from under the covers and goes over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of soft cotton joggers. He pads barefoot through his apartment until he gets to his spacious kitchen, and the sight in front of the stove threatens to make him hard all over again. 

___________ is standing there, hair in a messy bun, humming along to an upbeat, feel-good pop tune. She’s only in her underwear and her oversize sweatshirt. Ignis’ coffee pot is half full, still warm on the burner; and there’s a full plate of bacon beside the stove. Ignis comes up behind her and wraps his long arms around her soft waist, nuzzles his face into her neck. “Oh, good morning, sleepy head!” She laughs quietly. “I helped myself to your breakfast ingredients. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s an honor to have a five-star chef in my kitchen,” Ignis hums against her warm skin. “I’m sure your breakfast is to die for.” 

“Oh, it is, but I think I’ll let you live. You’ve earned your spot on this chef’s good side.” 

“Oh, have I? How fortuitous,” Ignis laughs. “At any rate, thank you for breakfast. I would have cooked, had I woken up first. It’s weird to get served in my own kitchen.” 

“You can totally take over, if you want.” She stirs the eggs that are in the frying pan, then sips her mug of coffee. “Good coffee, by the way. Ebony, my favorite.” 

Ignis thinks he might actually be in love. “Um,” he falters. “Of course. It’s the only coffee worth drinking.” It’s then that he notices the whiskey bottle, the bag of brown sugar, and the heavy cream carton on the counter next to the coffee pot. “Helped yourself to a little Duscaean special, have you?” 

“Hey man, don’t judge me. It’s already noon. Perfectly acceptable drinking hours. This is practically brunch.” 

“It’s _what _time?” Ignis balks. “Bloody hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever slept in so late.” He fumbles for his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. “I have got to check on Noctis, and I’m sure that Gladio has texted me as well...” Ignis frowns as he opens his phone and goes through his notifications. 

“Hey, relax. It’s Saturday.” ____________ turns off the burner and plates the eggs, then adds a few strips of bacon to it, and sets it front of Ignis, who’s seated himself at a stool at his kitchen island bar. 

He sets his phone down as she slides the food over, and waits to eat until she’s poured him a mug of coffee. He watches her like a hawk; once the coffee mug is safely on the marble countertop, he pulls her in close and steals a kiss. 

____________ melts into him, lets Ignis pull her close as he slides his tongue into her mouth to explore. She can’t help but let out a pleased hum at the contact. She places both palms flush against his bare chest and squeezes, eliciting a soft moan from the adviser. 

Ignis pulls away only after his stomach gives a low growl. He chuckles. “Apologies. It seems that I’m famished in more than one way.” 

_______________ blushes and nods, going to grab her own spiked coffee and plate of food, and she fumbles a little getting on the stool, legs dangling high off the ground. “So, uh. That was definitely the weirdest—but the best—first date I’ve ever been on. You charm all the girls like this, or just me?” 

Ignis coughs as he swallows a bite of eggs and washes it down with the coffee. 

“Sorry! Bad timing.” 

He shakes his head. “No, it’s quite alright, and a valid question.” Ignis pauses. “There’s never been anyone like you.” 

“Yeah? That's nice to hear. So, this wasn’t a one-time thing? Not just gonna hit it and quit it? Honestly my last relationship was kinda shitty, so...I’m sorry if I seem slow on the uptake. I don’t mean to question everything you say, or everything you think about me, I’m just...insecure. About everything. Except food. Food I can do. Food doesn’t disappoint.” ____________ laughs as she takes another sip of coffee. 

Ignis turns to her and meets her gaze, and doesn’t let her go. “____________,” he breathes. “I’m not sure how much time I can give you—but I’m willing to make this work, if you’ll have me. I don’t think I can let you go.” 

She blushes and nods. “I’m pretty busy too. Being the youngest chef in the city isn’t easy. But if you want this, then I want it, too.” 

Ignis swallows hard and tries to keep himself from crying. He has a _girlfriend. _The guys are going to absolutely _die. _

________________ reaches her hand out and places it on his bare forearm, and Ignis shivers. “You okay? I mean, do you want to make this official, or are you not a fan of labels?” 

“We made love, and then you made me breakfast. I’m pretty sure that we’re already several steps ahead of labels,” Ignis laughs. “The term itself is a bit juvenile, but yes. Girlfriend and boyfriend, if you like. I quite like the sound of it.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself, y'all. Have some drama with a happy ending.

“Shit, Iggy, she’s pretty cute.” Gladio takes Ignis’ phone and looks at the selfie a little closer. It’s a picture of Ignis and ____________ from a recent date at a festival that had just passed, sharing an ice cream cone. Her eyes are closed, laughing; and Ignis has a swipe of the chocolate dessert on his nose, and he’s looking sideways at her, glowing adoration clear in his pretty green eyes. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed in a picture before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to a festival, either, if it wasn’t to babysit the princess.” 

“Well, unfortunately we weren’t completely alone—but when Prompto dragged Noct off to the chocobo petting zoo, we had a few opportunities to do some things as a proper couple.” Ignis swipes his phone back from the young shield. 

“Too bad I missed it. I still haven’t met her,” Gladio nudges Ignis in the ribs. 

Ignis just hums as he swipes. “Oh, well—here's one with her eyes open. Her eyes are gorgeous.” 

Gladio looks over his shoulder and whistles low. “You’re tellin’ me,” then, “Didn’t peg you to go for a girl with a little meat on her bones.” Gladio smirks. 

Ignis flushes. “Well, I don’t--it’s not like I ever cared one way or the other, but I never consciously drifted towards someone like her. But her body is perfect. Her skin is so soft, and...” Ignis lets his voice trail, and he clears his throat. “At any rate. I’m a lucky man.” 

Gladio nods his head. “She’s really pretty. I’m happy for ya. See? Aren’t you glad that Noct made you take that night off?” 

Ignis meets Gladio’s gaze. “The best decision he’s ever made. However, I’m confident that we would’ve been destined to meet, no matter the circumstances.” 

“Yeah, but you met her sooner rather than later, right?” 

“Correct.” Ignis pockets his phone, then checks his watch. “She’ll be off of work in a couple of hours.” 

Gladio gawks at him. “That’ll be midnight. Iggy, c’mon. You’ve got to get some sleep. You’ve been in the Citadel all day in meetings.” 

“Not true, I was at Noct’s earlier. I made him dinner.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Ignis.” 

Ignis chuckles. “I know what you meant.” 

“Okay, now you’re just fuckin’ with me.” 

“Friday nights have become our _thing_, I’m afraid. I pick her up from the _Femme_, and we grab a bite at Kenny Crow’s, and then she spends the night, and then...” 

Gladio holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it! No need to elaborate bedroom details,” he laughs. “You’ve been less stressed lately. Glad to see you’re channeling all those pent-up feelings somewhere.” He winks. 

Ignis smirks. “Yes, well...” But before he can continue, his phone buzzes in his hand. “Pardon, Gladio, it’s ___________, speak of the devil.” He swipes the screen. “Hello love, is everything all right?” 

“Ignis! There...there was a fire here in the kitchen...we’ve had to evacuate patrons and close for the evening...there’s fire trucks here and everything...I’m sorry, I’m just scared right now...I understand if you’re busy, I just...needed to hear your voice...” 

Ignis jumps up and fumbles for his keys and his blazer that are in the armchair on the other side of his desk. “Darling, don’t fret! I’m on my way as we speak.” Ignis motions to Gladio to follow him, and the shield throws on the hoodie he was holding in his hands and complies. They jog to the elevator. “Do you need me to stay on the phone with you?” 

“No, I’ll be fine, if you’re coming...I’m really sorry, honey, I just...I’ve only ever been in a kitchen fire once before, at my first restaurant job, and that was like five years ago...oh, okay, wait, the fire chief needs to speak with me...let me go, okay?” 

“Be strong, love. It’s all right. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters. I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Ignis pushes _end _and looks up at Gladio, gripping his thick arm for support. “There was a fire, at the restaurant.” 

Gladio’s eyes go wide. “Shit, Iggy, is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, I assume the rest of the staff is all right as well. They had to evacuate and close.” Ignis cards his hands through his hair and sighs deeply, and sniffs hard. 

“Hey, hey, Iggy, it’s okay, she’s okay. C’mere.” Gladio moves to surround Ignis, holding him tightly in a hug. 

Ignis grips at Gladio’s hoodie and weeps softly. 

“Let it out, man, it’s okay.” Gladio holds Ignis tight as the elevator dives down to their destination. When was the last time he’d witnessed Ignis crying...had he ever? He’s not sure. He only knows that for him to care this much about anyone other than himself or Noctis or Prompto, this woman had to be something pretty damn special. 

Ignis pulls away as the elevator dings, doors opening to reveal the bottom floor. He takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes as the two of them walk out of the Citadel and out into the night. “Forgive me, Gladio, I...” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It’s nice to see you cry. Reminds me that you’re not a robot.” 

Ignis snorts. “I wasn’t aware that I gave that impression.” 

“I mean, you kinda do, sometimes.” Gladio laughs. “It’s good of you to show emotion every now and then. And don’t hit me with that ‘men don’t cry’ crap.” 

The two approach Ignis’ car and Ignis beeps the doors, unlocking them. He burns rubber as he speeds away from the Citadel, taking deep breaths to compose himself as the dark city streets fly by. 

“This is not how I wanted you to meet her,” Ignis says softly, voice cracking. 

Gladio shrugs. “I want to meet her no matter what, damn the circumstances. Besides, I want to be here for you.” Gladio puts a big warm hand on Ignis’ shoulder. 

Ignis sniffs hard and turns sharply into the parking lot of the _Femme __Étoilée__. _There are only a few cars in the parking lot—the kitchen and serving staff, no doubt, thinks Ignis—as well as several police cars and fire trucks. The back of the restaurant is still showing signs of smoke, but Ignis can’t see flames. He spots ____________ talking to one of the firefighters. He parks and practically falls out of his car trying to run over to her. 

“Okay, thanks Chief.” ____________ turns as the fire chief walks back to his truck, reporting something to the radio that’s hooked on his collar. She sees Ignis jogging to her, and she bolts, meeting him halfway and crashing into him, breaking down into tears again. “_Ignis_,” she moans as she sighs into his chest. 

“My darling,” Ignis breathes into her hair. He grips her tight. She’s still in her chef’s clothes, hair net and all. He holds her for several minutes until he feels her breathing return to normal, then pulls away slightly. He thumbs away the tears that are on her cheeks. “You’re not hurt?” 

She shakes her head. “No-no, I’m fine. Just a grease fire. No one was hurt.” She turns and motions to the rest of the staff that have finally wandered in the directions of the cars. “We’re all just shaken up. I mean, this shit happens, and my line cook was pretty quick with the fire extinguisher, I just...” she sighs. “I’m glad I have insurance. But I don’t know how long we’re gonna be closed.” 

“Your safety is all I care about,” replies Ignis as he starts to calm down. “I’m glad your staff is safe as well. Your patrons will no doubt be supportive.” 

____________ nods. “I have several high-profile regulars, so I’m sure they’ll be calling me tomorrow. I’m not worried about having help, I just...I’m sorry. It scared me a lot.” 

“Of course it did, love. And that’s quite all right. But I’m here, and you’re safe. Your staff is safe, the patrons are safe. It’s going to be fine.” Ignis sniffs hard, and he leans down to catch her lips in a gentle kiss. 

____________ sighs into his mouth and kisses back hungrily, eager to channel her stress of the last hour into something productive. As she pulls away, she glances to the side and notices a taller, more muscular man standing near her and Ignis. Faint recognition registers in her brain. “Ignis, that man...is that your friend, the prince’s shield?” 

Ignis turns to Gladio and rolls his eyes at Gladio’s shit-eating grin. “Your assumptions are correct.” Ignis lifts a hand and motions him over. 

____________ steps toward Gladio with an outstretched hand. “Hi! Sorry—Ignis has told me a lot about you...I’m sorry we have to meet like this.” She rubs the back of her neck nervously. “I’m __________, the chef of the _Femme_.” 

Gladio takes her small chubby hand in his own and shakes it heartily, then draws her close for a quick hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

____________ steps back, a little flustered. “Oh--that’s good, I guess.” She laughs. “Sorry you have to see me all weepy and in my whites, but oh well. Thanks for coming.” 

Gladio nods. “Of course. Iggy was pretty torn up after you called him. He cried in the elevator.” 

“Gladio.” Ignis’ voice is firm. “Please, spare me the embarrassment.” 

__________ turns. “No need to be embarrassed around me, you should know that by now.” She steps back to the adviser. “You mean so much to me, Ignis, and, I...I’m glad that you feel so strongly about me, too.” 

Ignis wipes his still-watery eyes and kisses her forehead again. “Of course,” he says quietly. “If anything were to happen to you, I...” 

She takes his large, strong hands in her own and squeezes. “You don’t have to say it, baby. I know.” ____________ gazes into Ignis’ misty green eyes. “I love you so much.” She chokes a little as she says it—they've been skirting around the word for weeks, even though their mutual attraction was instantaneous. She feels her face grow hot and she can feel her heartbeat in her ears through pounding blood. Has she spoken too soon? Is she going to scare him off? Is he going to chalk it up to the emotional events of the night? 

Ignis smiles wide and closes his eyes, chuckles a little. “You’re so much stronger than I am, you have no idea.” He swallows hard and opens his eyes. “I love you too, __________. More than anything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CYANIDECHERUB BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING STELLAR ARTWORK 
> 
> https://thevirtualcanvas.tumblr.com/post/187837139491/i-cant-even-remember-the-last-time-i-drew-in

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, things have been hard lately. Check out this tumblr post if you have the time. I won't object to a coffee, if you catch my drift. Same username.
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187072735418/help-i-guess


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